


We Are, Together,

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aggressive!Ford, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Insecurity, M/M, Shy!Stan, Stan-Centric, Tags to be added, things of that nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley Pines didn't take up boxing when he was young. This changed quite a bit; Instead of being a tough guy who eventually ruined his brother's ambitions, he became an introverted guy who could hardly keep up with his grades. Without Stanford Pines, he never would have left high school. Stanford Pines, in the middle of their third year of high school, realized that his brother was in love with him.</p><p>And he accepted it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pressured

**Author's Note:**

> _Yes_ I cheated on the title because that's the literal name of the folder on my computer. And _yes_ this story is sorta of a switched version of canon. Kind of. It's really just a personality swap. Ford is still the "smarter" twin ( _yes_ I put it in quotations because I think that's debateable).
> 
>  
> 
> Completely utterly and entirely sinstans's AU (Or at least I think it is, they're who I first saw it from). I'm just in love with this AU okay and when I first saw it I started writing this (but I kept putting it on hold and now I'm posting it in chapters).
> 
>  
> 
> I'll shut up now

i.

Stanley wondered, absentmindedly while cleaning his glasses, if he should have taken the opportunity to box when his father had offered it to him. If he had, he wouldn’t have come out like this; more chubby than muscle-y and lacking in any special areas of interest to anyone. He wasn’t smart like his brother; didn’t have some weird anomaly like a sixth finger as an icebreaker for conversations. He was barely passing most of his classes with Cs, could hardly keep up with Stanford, and he didn’t really have much talent for anything except drawing and building.

 _If I’d boxed_ , Lee thought to himself,  _Maybe I’d be stronger._

And have more confidence. That was definitely an area he was frequently told he needed work in. He could barely talk to anyone aside from his teachers and his brother, which led to many misunderstandings and too many rumors. Teenagers in high school were cruel beings; if you didn’t fit their mold you were an immediate outcast and ridiculed for it. Lee knew this first hand.

“You think too much,” Ford decided, looking over at the bed where Lee was simply sitting, a sketchbook open in his lap.

“You’re one to talk,” Lee mumbled, picking his pencil up again to begin drawing once more. He’d picked up the sketchbook a few weeks back when he’d started thinking about expanding the Stan-o-War to be bigger and better. Designing wasn’t his strongsuit, but he could sketch fairly well and he would get better with time.

“What are you even thinking about? How to get out of tomorrow’s chemistry test?” Ford joked. Lee blanched at the mere mention of the coming exam. Ford frowned instantly.

“You didn’t even think to study, did you?”

“I-I’ve been busy with other things,” Lee stated, though that was a complete lie and both twins knew it. Lee didn’t have “other things” to do; he slept a lot and got bad grades. That’s what most people knew of him.

“Come over here; I’ll help you study,” Ford offered. Lee contemplated saying no; he didn’t exactly want to study for the chemistry test, but he knew he should at least try, otherwise he’d flunk and be held back a year. Over  _chemistry_.

“Fine,” Lee sighed. He stood from his bed and slinked over to Lee’s side, pulling up a spare stool to sit on. He was very close in proximity to Ford; could practically feel the heat radiating off of his older twin. Ford leaned just a bit closer, opening the chemistry textbook to the material they were supposed to be studying.

Ford started rambling off about the lesson; he understood it perfectly. Lee could hardly keep up with all the information coming at him. He barely understood the slower paced lessons in class, let alone the quick explanations Ford was running through like it was nothing (which, to Stanford Pines, it was nothing). And he couldn’t entirely focus on the material either; not with Ford occasionally brushing his fingers over Lee’s hand and calling his name to make sure he was paying attention. Which made Lee lose focus entirely.

He had noticed, a few months back, that sometimes, when he looked at Ford, his heart started beating faster in his chest; that when Ford fell asleep at his desk Lee liked just watching him, the slow breathing and Ford’s relaxed features mesmerizing; that when they were together he felt like the world had stopped and moved too fast all at once. It couldn’t be something normal. This Lee was absolutely sure of.

But he couldn’t say anything to Ford. What would he say? ‘Hey, Sixer, I think I have a crush on you. Could we maybe kiss so I can find out if it’s true?’  _Hell no._ If he said that he was just  _asking_  for Ford to never speak to him again. Kiss his brother? That was possibly the worst thing his mind could have come up with. He didn’t want to lose his best friend to some stupid disgusting impulses in his mind. Even if they did feel real.

“And you have to remember the subscript for Carbon and this superscript means― Lee, are you even listening?” Ford noticed that Lee was just staring at him; watching him with cheeks steadily growing redder with each passing moment until his whole face was just red and his glasses were beginning to fog up a bit. “Don’t tell me you’re sick.”

“What?” Lee hadn’t really heard a single word said to him.

“You’re warm,” Ford placed a six-fingered hand against Lee’s forehead. Lee pulled away, not wanting to be touched by Ford’s large hands when his thoughts had spiraled down such a sinful path.

“I’m fine,” he lied easily―that was one of his talents. He could lie like Hell and convince people it was true; he just had to make sure he believed it was true, and then it was for others too.

“You don’t  _seem_  fine.” Ford was the only person that constantly challenged him on his lies. Brought the truth to light, the real truth, so that Lee could no longer pretend that what he passed as the truth was truth.

“Well I  _am_  fine, and I don’t really care about chemistry anyway.” Lee stood quickly and went back to his bed, pushing aside the woodshop projects he’d had going and lying down so that he was facing the wall. His greatest defense was abrasiveness sometimes. In private, it kept Ford from questioning too far to ensure that some things stayed secret.

“Right. You like  _woodshop_  more.” Ford was pretty unimpressed with Lee’s preference for building over anything else. He turned back to the chemistry work, going over the notation and balancing equations.

Lee simply curled in on himself, trying to melt directly into his bed and not have to deal with his brother criticizing him. How could he ever think of Stanford as anything other than a brother? The guy could be a total jerk sometimes. More interested in his stupid textbooks than any real people. Not much better than Stanley himself.

And yet…

And yet Lee still felt the same. He still wanted to hold Ford’s hands and feel what it felt like to have twelve fingers encasing his ten. He wanted to cuddle and be cuddled, have Ford’s furnace-like body pressed against him to keep him warm through the nights. He wanted to know if Ford’s lips really were as soft as they looked, and if they would be just as delicious too. Lee wanted to share… intimate moments with Ford… But he couldn’t.

And maybe  _that_  hurt more than being simply looked over because he was the “boring” or “bland” twin.

ii.

Stanford Pines was, without a doubt, the smarter twin. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge; his memory was great and if there was a problem he would definitely solve it. He could work out puzzles in no time flat and, honestly, he had a bright future ahead of him, possibly in engineering. If he kept up the hard work and made sure his grades stayed at the top of his class, then eventually he would surely be given a scholarship to some prestigious college.

Stanley on the other hand…

There were times when Ford wondered what had happened to cause them to be so different. Sure they were alike in some areas, but their differences far outweighed their similarities. Maybe it was his two extra fingers. Having such an anomaly had always driven Ford to prove himself; to stop the constant teasing and be accepted. Lee had never really had the problem of having such a glaring difference from others.

When they reached age ten, they had both turned down boxing for their own personal reasons. Ford had no interest in it, but he honestly thought that maybe Lee  _should_  have boxed. Then he would have something going for him, because Ford was almost certain that Lee would have been a natural at boxing. Maybe it would have helped with his confidence as well. Possibly even gotten Lee to go out more instead of spending all of his time at home and on the beach.

Ford knew that, as the older twin, he had a duty to protect his brother. Even their father thought the same thing.

“Lee’s not all there,” Filbrick Pines would grunt to Ford, “Watch him.”

And that was an order. So Ford knew that, until they were both old enough to leave the house, he had to watch over Lee, make sure he didn’t get into trouble and that he managed to graduate high school. That was his burden, and he would only have to carry it for two more years.

Or at least, two more years was what Ford had  _thought_  he would have to carry it for.

Life had a way of… not going according to plan.

A very prime example of this was the day of his and Lee’s chemistry exam.

Ford, predictably, was almost finished with the exam long before Lee had even finished a single section, and when Ford glanced over, he saw that Lee was actually trying (though failing, very miserably). The effort put forth by Lee was what spurred Ford into rolling his eyes and flipping back to the first page of the exam.

He coughed, “ _Lee_ ,” in a voice that couldn’t be heard by the teacher, and his twin looked up and over to see that Ford was tapping his desk and paper with his pencil. Lee looked confused for a moment before he realized just what Ford was hinting at. Actually  _cheating_  on a test? Could Lee even do that without it being obvious that he  _had_  cheated? All of their teachers knew that Lee was not the smarter twin. If he showed signs of suddenly gaining knowledge then red flags would surely be raised. Lee  _wasn’t_  the smarter twin but he also wasn’t a complete  _idiot_.

“I can’t,” Lee whispered, trying to keep his voice low and beneath the  _scritch scritch_  of the other students’ pencils. Ford resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and glanced at the teacher. She was still flipping through the magazine on her desk, luckily.

“You’re gonna fail,” Ford hissed. “Be  _held back_.”

And as much as Lee occasionally got on Ford’s nerves he didn’t want Lee to end up held back a year. So the least he could was help Lee pass a chemistry test.

Lee looked pensive for a moment, as if he were having a  _real_  dilemma. Ford glanced at the clock; if Lee didn’t hurry he’d run out of time to actually copy down Ford’s answers. Lee looked down at his paper; the confused scribblings he’d dared call answers, and then looked back at Ford. Ford’s eyebrow was raised and he tapped his wrist.  _Tick tock._

With a defeated sigh, Lee started to rewrite some of his answers. He didn’t change too many of them; he didn’t want to be called out on cheating later on. It was better to just… cheat only a little. Not too much.

Ford didn’t know why, but the feeling in his chest definitely wasn’t normal. He felt like he’d  _won_  though  _what_  he wasn’t even sure. But having Lee listen for once? That was a pretty good feeling.

After class, Lee stayed behind a bit to clean up his desk area. The teacher, familiar with how slow Stanley Pines could be when trying to pack up, let him move at his own pace, even striking up a small bit of conversation. Lee always tried to be polite to his teachers; they understood that he wasn’t smart like his brother and tried to help him so long as he wasn’t being rude.

“How was the test?” she asked, smiling.

“Ah, not easy,” Lee chuckled nervously.  _I cheated_ , was all he could think.

“Hey, it gets better. If you’d like you could come to tutoring after school today. Your brother’s leading the session.” His chemistry teacher passed him a flyer; one of the ones he’d seen around the school. Lee pushed the flyer into his English textbook.

“Thanks,” he smiled. His things all packed up, he left the classroom to head to his next one.

Ford was waiting for him to when Lee walked out, his own books held tightly in his hands. Lee was surprised to see him waiting there, and his smile, which had been falling, returned when his brother looked at him. Ford managed a smile of his own when he saw his brother’s; Lee’s smiles were infectious.

“Thanks,” Lee sighed. When his brother  _wasn’t_  being an ass to him, he did make Lee happy.

Ford simply nodded, “It’s fine, Lee. Let’s get to class.”

They started walking towards their History class. Ford glanced at Lee out of the corner of his eye; Lee was smiling a small, content smile. Ford liked seeing Lee smile. So he decided to try to make sure Lee would  _always_  smile.

iii.

Lee didn’t attend any of the study sessions after school―not at first, at least. He preferred not having to give up his after school time (typically spent working on Stan-O-War related things) to work on things that could be done  _in_  school. But once he’d received his chemistry paper back, he knew he would have to start attending. All of the answers he’d done, all of the problems he’d tried to work out himself, were marked wrong (with the exception of exactly two), while all the ones he’d copied from Ford were correct (which was to be expected). In the end he’d received a 73 as his grade.

Which spurred him into staying after school one day to go to the study session with Ford. The school’s library was where it took place and Ford took control as if it were completely natural for him.

 _Probably is,_  Lee thought a little dejectedly, sitting in a far corner so that no one would notice him. The last thing he needed was more people assuming he was smart like his brother and trying to get his help with anything (that wasn’t woodshop or, surprisingly, math. He couldn’t work the more complicated equations like his brother but it was the only class he managed to maintain a solid B in without too much help).

“Today’s subject area is English,” Ford announced to the group that had gathered. Lee had hoped it wouldn’t be; English was possibly even worse than Chemistry was for him. He could just never get it right in English. Everything he did was just… wrong.

When Ford said that everyone could break into their own groups to help each other, Lee decided that maybe he should just leave. He didn’t want to try working with any of the other people there; all of them were doing significantly better than he was, and most just wanted to go up from a B to an A, or from an A- to an A+. Lee wanted to go from a D- to a C-.

Lee had made it as far as standing before Ford was over in an instant.

“Where are you going?” his older twin demanded. The slight edge of harshness made Lee bristle a bit; he tried to avoid angering his brother. Anger didn’t look good on Ford in Lee’s eyes.

“Home, Ford, I shouldn’t be here,” Lee stated honestly. “I’ve got―got better things to do.” Well, that was a lie.

“No you don’t,” Ford said simply, calling him on it. “You need the help. Sit down.”

“Ford―”

“Sit. Down.” The command in Ford’s voice was final. Lee wanted to argue, to say that he didn’t have to stay if he didn’t want to (and he  _really_  didn’t want to; being around all these much smarter students made him feel terrible about himself), but people were already staring at them and wondering what could be wrong. So Lee sighed and placed his bag back down. Ford’s eyes, which had been rather angry when Lee suggested leaving, softened and he placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder.

“It’s for your own good, Lee.” He managed a small smile, and Lee’s chest tightened when he saw it.

“I guess.” Lee shrugged, but he sat down and pulled out his English textbook. Ford placed a hand on Lee’s head, gently running a hand over Lee’s hair.

“I’ve gotta help a few others, but I’ll be back to help you, too. You can’t leave though,” he offered. “Deal?”

Lee looked up at Ford and nodded, before returning to his textbook. “Deal.”

Ford left Lee to his own devices, and Lee pulled out his sketchbook again. He watched Ford moving around, helping other students with this essay or that literature assignment. He started sketching; Ford’s figure as he was bent over someone’s shoulder, Ford’s sudden burst of laughter when someone made some English related joke Lee would never understand, Ford’s annoyed face when someone mentioned their History teacher (who  _really_  got on Ford’s nerves).

By the time Ford finished with anybody else, Lee had filled up two whole pages in his sketchbook of simply  _Ford_. His brother’s visage was sketched all over the pages. When Ford walked over, Lee quickly flipped the pages to his most recent Stan-O-War sketch.

“You’re  _still_  drawing the Stan-O-War?” Ford rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Lee.

“Uh, yeah…” Lee didn’t make eye contact, knowing that the moment he did Ford would know he was lying and would demand to see what he’d  _really_  been working on, which Ford definitely didn’t need to know.

“Well, put it away and let’s try to start on some of the easier stuff first. Here, you could use some help with rhetorical devices…”

And Ford launched into an explanation on what rhetorical devices were and Lee tried to keep up, he really did, because if he couldn’t follow Ford’s explanations then he’d fail English and he just couldn’t afford that. However, with Ford’s close proximity and the way he was leaning against Lee to write out sentences as examples, Lee’s mind could only continuously come back to Ford’s body heat; to the occasional, low, drawl of Ford’s voice when he said, _“Look… See?”_ ; to Ford’s breath on his ear whenever he turned to look at Lee and Lee refused to meet his eyes.

By the time the study session had ended, Lee only partially understood rhetorical devices better and he was sweating more than usual. Everything was hot and he was so nervous and he clutched his sketchbook to his chest tighter than anything else after he’d packed up all of his books. Ford looked pretty haggard.

“Well, you’re doing better than before. At least you know what they are now,” Ford mumbled more to himself than to Lee. He dismissed the group, promising to meet at the same time on Wednesday and turned back to Lee. Lee, whose face was extremely red, averted eye contact immediately.

Ford’s eyes narrowed a bit, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lee replied, a little rushed, “Can we just go home?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Ford wasn’t budging. This wasn’t the first time Lee had blatantly lied to him about how he was feeling and he wanted to get to the bottom of things.

“Can we  _please_  go home, Ford, it’s not anything important.” Lee looked around; people were starting to look back and stare.

“We can go when you tell me what’s been bothering you.” Ford crossed his arms over his chest. Ford could be incredibly stubborn, this Lee knew for certain. Which was why Lee quickly made something up.

“You can never let things  _go_ , Ford, and it’s always what  _you_  wanna do,” he rushed out, “I just wanna go home.”

Ford felt like that wasn’t the complete truth but he didn’t press the issue anymore―for now. When they got home, he would certainly be getting to the bottom of things…

iv.

If there was one thing that Ford knew about his brother, it was that Lee couldn’t resist a bag of toffee peanuts even if he  _tried_. It was Lee’s one comfort food; the one thing he would be willing to give up information for. Lee’s recent behaviour was starting to concern Ford. He was much more observant than Lee was giving him credit for, which was also saying quite a bit about Lee’s mindset lately, since Lee  _knew_  Ford was observant.

So Ford was reduced to bribing his brother. He placed the bag of toffee peanuts onto his desk and waited patiently on Lee’s bed for Lee to come in from cleaning up the kitchen. He had his entire plan worked out; Lee would come up, see the toffee peanuts, Ford would grab them first, and then he would give Lee an ultimatum. Which would end in Ford’s favor. It always did.

Footsteps coming toward the door pulled Ford out of his thought process. He waited until he heard the door open before standing, just as Lee went to reach for his favourite food. Lee stopped, taking a step back, eyes narrowed.

“…What are you doing?” he asked.

“I bought this for you, Lee,” Ford started, “Because I know how much you like them. But.”

Ford pulled the bag away when Lee went to reach for it again.

“But there’s a catch,” Lee sighed, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“Tell me what’s been wrong these last few days.” Lee bristled, eyes widening. “You’ve been acting strange.”

“I keep telling you, it’s nothing.” Lee went to reach for the bag again, but Ford stepped just out of his reach.

“ _Tell_  me, Stanley,” Ford demanded. “Or these are just gonna go to waste.”

Lee looked between Ford and the bag of toffee peanuts. Then, he did something that shocked Ford.

“I don’t really want them, anyway,” Lee mumbled as he went over to his bed and sat down.

Now Ford  _knew_  there was something going on. Because Lee  _never_  turned down a bag of toffee peanuts, not for anything. Ford placed the bag down onto his desk and walked over to Lee’s bed. Lee was red in the face, again, and trying to hide behind his sketchbook. Ford climbed onto the bed, trying to see Lee’s face. Lee just tried to get away from him, moving further away on the bed as Ford closed in. He kept himself hidden behind the sketchbook, not wanting to look Ford in the eye.

Now Ford was getting annoyed.

“Lee, stop,” he sighed, still following behind his younger twin.

Lee was backed against the wall, still with his book covering his face. Ford had no problems wrestling it from Lee and tossing it away, off to the side and on to the floor, out of Lee’s reach. Lee made a noise of panic when it was gone and tried to twist to grab it. Ford quickly snatched up Lee’s wrist, pinning them to the bed as he straddled Lee’s waist.

“Let me go!” Lee demanded, thrashing beneath Ford, “My sketchbook―!”

“―Is  _fine_ , Lee, now tell me what the Hell is wrong!” Ford growled. He tightened his grip on Lee when he didn’t immediately stop thrashing, a reminder that, though Ford had turned down boxing, he still kept up with himself.

“Look at me, Lee.” The younger Pines twin kept his eyes screwed resolutely shut, and his head turned half into the bedding.  _“Stanley!”_

The shout of his name made Lee flinch. He knew Ford wouldn’t give up so easily; he was just too stubborn for that. Lee could out-stubborn him sometimes, but only when Ford was in the middle of something important, like homework. The weekend was just starting, so Ford wouldn’t be working on any homework until late Saturday or early Sunday. Meaning Lee could try to be stubborn but he would ultimately lose.

So he opened his eyes and looked up at Ford, trying his best to be angry and failing.

“What’s the matter with you lately? You’ve been trying to avoid me and you haven’t been listening to what I say at all.” Ford’s expression grew soft and he loosened his grip on Lee’s wrists. “I’m worried about you, Lee.”

Lee’s expression changed as well and he pulled his hands free. Not knowing what to do with them, he pushed one beneath his skewed pillow and the other down to his side. Ford’s hands rested by his head, supporting him.

“What’s going on?” Ford asked again.

Lee averted his gaze immediately. Ford grew annoyed again almost immediately. He reached a hand out and forced Lee to look him in the eye once more, but Lee stared at everything except Ford’s face.

“What’s been  _up_  with you, Lee, you won’t even look me in the eye!” Ford shouted. Lee flinched, but his face gave away everything. He was sweating profusely and he was too red for it to be normal. He whispered something that Ford didn’t quite catch.

“ _What_?”

 _“I’m sorry!”_  Lee said even louder. Ford didn’t understand why Lee was sorry until he shifted beneath Ford. That was when Ford felt it.

“A-Are you―?”

But Lee squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to completely melt into his mattress from embarrassment and dread. Ford stared down at Lee, wide-eyed.

“Lee, why are you…?” But Ford couldn’t finish his question. Lee looked ready to cry.

“Please stop. Please just leave it alone. Please,” he pleaded.

Ford was slow as he realized what was being asked of him. Almost immediately he climbed off of Lee and took a step back. He stepped on something and looked down, seeing that it was Lee’s sketchbook. It had been opened to a page full of drawings that looked distinctly like Ford. Upon picking the book up, Lee’s horrified shout ignored for a moment, Ford saw that it was him, in various positions with differing expressions.

Ford looked at Lee, who was frozen in place, and then placed the book onto the desk.

“I―” Ford looked around the room before his eyes landed on his pillow and blanket. He grabbed them and went towards the door, not looking back.

“I’mgoingtosleepinthelivingroomtonight,” he rushed out, before disappearing before Lee could say anything. He shut the door quickly, heading to the living room fast so Lee didn’t have time to possibly call him back. When he arrived in the living room, he tried to steady his breathing.

All Stanford could think was  _holy Hell_  because his brother had been hard  _for **him**_  and Ford just didn’t know what to do with that information and―

“Oh god,” Ford was ashamed to say that  _he was hard too._

He needed to find out what was happening.

v.

Ford hated him. Ford  _officially_  hated him. He hated everything Lee was and his entire being and his guts and it was Lee’s own fault, his  _own fucking fault_. How had he even let himself get hard while Ford was on top of him? He should have thought about Crampelter harder―that usually got rid of any erections he was unfortunate enough to have around his brother.

But Ford had been so  _close_ , sitting on top of him and staring at him with an open expression and so much  _concern_. Lee had been trying so hard to picture Crampelter’s face in his mind, but all he’d gotten was Ford; Ford clogging up his thoughts, the idea of Ford looking at his lips instead of into his eyes, the feeling of Ford leaning down to kiss him―it had all just been Ford _Ford **Ford**_. And his lower regions had stirred in response and Lee hadn’t been able to take it anymore and―

And now Ford hated him. How else could Lee explain Ford leaving the room to sleep on the couch? There couldn’t have been any other explanation for it. Which left Lee to ask a different question; would Ford tell their parents? Oh god, if Dad found out Lee would be  _toast_. He would probably end up disowned and kicked out. He couldn’t live on the streets; he wouldn’t make it _two days_  out in the world without Ford. He wasn’t strong enough or smart enough.

Those thoughts made sure that Lee hardly got any sleep that night. He was tossing and turning and simply unable to rest when his mind kept coming back to Ford telling him that he was disgusting and wanted Lee out of his life for good. All of those years spent protecting him shouldn’t have led to this, Lee’s mind kept saying in Ford’s voice. He shouldn’t have been forced to take care of someone who was so disgusting as to picture his  _twin brother_  like that.

“You’re broken. Useless.  ** _Wrong_**.”

Lee could hardly handle it. The toxic thoughts carried over into his dreams, typically peaceful and simple but now nightmares, as well. He dreamed of Ford telling their parents, of his Ma looking at him as if she’d raised a heathen and his Dad shouting and throwing him out into the streets. He dreamed of wandering, lost, without his brother to help him, and of all the bad things that could happen to him (mugged or killed) without his brother there to save him.

In the end Lee sat up in his bed for most of the night, crying while eating the toffee peanuts left on Ford’s desk, and trying not to feel defective (even though he  _knew_  he was. That was the only explanation. He was a defective twin).

He passed out at sunrise.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Ford was tossing and turning, his dreams suddenly filled with inappropriate thoughts of his brother. He didn’t understand why his mind had become so occupied with picturing Lee in lewd positions; in his mind’s eye he just kept seeing Lee in ways he shouldn’t. Lee naked, laid out on his bed and panting for Ford; Lee leaning over Ford’s desk, butt poked out and ripe for Ford to take; Lee on his knees beneath Ford, staring up at him as Lee gets ready to―

It was maddening. And more than once Ford found himself slipping his hands into his pajamas to take himself in hand.

It just didn’t make sense to Ford. He had never really thought about Lee like this before; why had he started now? Was it because Lee thought of Ford in this way that spurred Ford to see Lee in the same light? Or… maybe Ford  _had_ always thought of Lee like this, but never in this fashion? He practically claimed Lee as his in the first place; he made sure none of the bullies at school picked on him and he took relatively good care of Lee (helping him study, letting Lee look at his answers on tests, buying Lee his favourite snacks). Maybe it was always there, in the back of his mind, those urges and desires, but Ford had never realized it?

Ford thought more on it when he had to take a trip back to the bedroom around sunrise to drop his soiled underwear and pajama bottoms into the hamper and pick up something clean. His mind was still moving fast, even as he managed to slowly crack the door open and peek inside. He spotted Lee lying on his bed, the bag of toffee peanuts empty, curled in on himself, asleep. Ford let out a tiny sigh of relief. If Lee had been awake, Ford didn’t think he could confront him.

Silently grabbing his things, Ford quickly changed and tossed his dirty clothing into the hamper. Errand finished, Ford was poised to leave the room when he heard shifting behind him.

“Ford…” Lee was mumbling in his sleep, turning on his bed a bit. Ford had reflexively turned around when Lee called his name, but upon seeing that Lee was still sleeping, he let out a tiny breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

A thought crossed Ford’s mind, one pertaining to Lee once more. He walked over to Lee’s bed and kneeled beside it, watching his brother sleep for a long moment. His fingers ached to touch, to reach out and push the hair back from Lee’s forehead, to wipe away the sweat from the heat of the night. He would have done so as well, had he not feared waking Lee. There was a good chance that Lee didn’t want to see Ford right now, even if he was calling out for his brother in his sleep. So Ford didn’t touch his brother.

Instead, without a sound or a glance back, Ford returned to the living room, where he laid beneath his blanket and slept for hours, dreams occupied by only his brother’s smiling face and warm hands.


	2. Fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They aren't exactly on speaking terms. But Ford's determined, and Lee? He'll take what he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was way hard to get out lol

vi.

When either twin woke, it was because Filbrick Pines was telling them both that they needed to do something productive with their day that didn’t involve lounging around his house. Lee cleaned himself up quickly and left for the beach before Ford could say a single word to him, which was probably for the better. Because what _would_ Ford say? ‘Lee, I suddenly kind of want to have sex with you now, will you let me?’ After last night, there was absolutely no way Lee would want to hear that from Ford.

Lee went to his only safe haven; the beach. He quickly went for the Stan-O-War. It hadn’t had work done on it in a long time. Though Ford had gotten busier with school, Lee had attempted to continue construction. However, once reality about his grades and possibly failing and being held back set in, Lee had been forced to abandon doing any actual work on the boat. Which was why he’d turned to sketching out bigger and better plans for it until he could get back to work.

Today, he didn’t plan on working on anything for the Stan-O-War. Today he was just going to sit, curled up, and contemplate running away from home. He could probably do it. Leave home, use one of those pyramid schemes he’d learned about in his Business class, get rich quick, come back to Glass Shard Beach to finish the Stan-O-War and sail around the world. Then he’d never have to see his family again.

“Only problem is that those pyramid schemes never _really_ work,” Lee sighed. And he couldn’t leave Ford. He felt terrible but the thought of leaving Ford behind forever not only deeply upset him but the thought just couldn’t seed itself in his mind. Even if he wanted to, Lee could never leave Ford. He curled further in on himself. What was he gonna do?

[][][][][]

Ford knew Lee was avoiding him. He’d gone out earlier than Ford that morning, as soon as their father had told them to get up, without a single word to Ford on what his plans were for the day. On weekends Ford could never get Lee to shut _up_ about the Stan-O-War. ‘Ford, are you gonna help me today?’ ‘Ford you promised you’d help this time.’ ‘Ford, I’ve redrawn this part, see?’ and Ford’s least favourite, ‘You never want to spend time with me.’ He hadn’t felt bad about it before, but now, for Lee to just… disappear without a single word to Ford? It kind of hurt.

_But it’s your fault, isn’t it? You overreacted._

He hadn’t… overreacted. Overreacting was―

_Going to sleep in the living room while leaving Lee alone to think the worst. And then jacking off while thinking about Lee._

Right.

Ford put his head in his hands at remembering. What was he _thinking_? Why had he thought it was a good idea to even _entertain_ the thoughts of bending Lee over his desk, listening to him pant and moan Ford’s name as Ford―

“Stanford!”

Ford snapped out of his growing daydream at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Yeah, ma, yeah,” Ford stood, walking out of his and Stan’s bedroom to meet his mother halfway down the hall.

Maria Pines stood with her hand on her hip, holding a pair of Ford’s boxers in her hands. Ford recognized them as the pair he’d worn the night before. The one with quite a few white stains in it. Ford’s face and ears burned in embarrassment when he saw them.

“I’m not gonna say not to,” his Ma started, “But at _least_ try to clean them up a bit before you throw them _on top_ of all the clothes I have to wash.”

Ford didn’t have any words to reply with other than a tiny, squawked out, “Yes, ma.”

“Good. Now go find your brother; he promised to help me with dinner tonight and I want to get started soon.” Maria dropped the underwear back into the basket of clothing she had and picked it up. “And do it before your father comes up!”

Ford didn’t waste time as he disappeared through the door to head downstairs and out onto the street. His father wasn’t on the main floor of the shop, leaving Ford to assume that he was in the backroom. He hurried out before his dad could ask where he was going. The last thing he wanted or needed was his dad questioning him about anything.

The beach wasn’t far from their home, something Ford was very grateful for. He’d been here so many times that he could’ve found the Stan-O-War with his eyes closed. He didn’t walk fast towards it, though. He needed time to think about what he would say to Lee.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said to himself, practicing, “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

That… was not a good way to start things, probably. If he walked up to Lee and say that, he’d probably end up ignored further. Lee could be extremely stubborn if Ford weren’t careful with what he said around him.

“Ma wants you to come back and help her in the kitchen,” Ford mumbled.

Okay, that was completely avoiding the subject. Could he even do that? If he didn’t approach the topic of Lee’s apparent… was it like? It hadn’t _felt_ like just “like” to Ford, and he’d felt _something_ against him last night. And hadn’t he felt the same something when he’d gone into the living room to sleep alone?

He couldn’t _not_ bring it up. It would just cause mounting tension between them. Who knew when it would blow up? They didn’t need a “wrong place wrong time” situation for something like this.

“Lee, we need to talk,” Ford resolutely said to himself, deciding that _that’s_ what he needed to say. Because they did; they really needed to talk about this.

“What?!” the voice of his twin shouted. Ford looked up from the sand and saw Lee staring up at him, eyes wide and red from having been crying. Ford hated when Lee cried.

“Lee!” Ford gawked, a little dumbfounded by the fact that he’d come up on the Stan-O-War so quickly.

Lee sat in front of it, curled in on himself as he often seemed to be these days. There were tear tracks staining his face and Ford didn’t have to be the genius he was to know that he’d caused this. What was he gonna do? What should he even say?

“I―” he stopped himself. Should they even _have_ this conversation right now?

“…Ma wants you to come home and… help her with dinner.”

In the end he decided that they shouldn’t. He’d soon find out it was the worst decision.

vii.

He felt like everyone was watching him when he went back to school; staring and judging him because they all _knew_ how he felt about his brother. Every last one of their classmates―they were watching him and whispering about how Stanley Pines was a disgusting guy that was in love with his twin brother. Lee couldn’t even look up into their faces, terrified that his thoughts would be written all over his own. The last thing he needed was everyone to see his shame.

The art room was the only place that held any reprieve for Lee. He didn’t have to worry about anyone staring because _no one_ usually came to the art room in the morning. Lee could hide there until first period started, luckily enough.

He settled on a stool in front of a blank canvas. His art teacher had told him that whenever he wanted to paint, he could just pick up a canvas and go for it. And really, he was thankful to be able to do so; painting gave him an outlet that sketching didn’t. Sketches couldn’t really capture his feelings like pastels and watercolours could. It was easier to use a paintbrush than it was to use a pencil.

The only colours that could capture how he felt _currently_ seemed to be grey and blue, however, in dark hues. Sapphire, and cobalt, and midnight, and navy. Deep greys that seemed to blend the colours into a mess. He didn’t know where the reds came from; they seemed to appear from nowhere, mixing in with the blues and creating violets.

“Ford doesn’t really like flowers,” he mumbled to himself, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “He hates when the pollen gets everywhere.”

It was really starting to get to him that he and Ford weren’t talking. The walk home from the beach had been completely silent, and Ford had slept in the living room again that night. They hadn’t spoken directly during dinner and Lee had left the house early that morning, before Ford was even out of the bathroom.

It was really hurting him to have already gone two days without speaking to his brother. Ford was his _best friend_ ; Lee didn’t have anybody like he had Ford. Ford, who was sometimes a stubborn ass, who could be demanding and pushy, who could make Lee _smile_ like no one’s business, hadn’t spoken a single word to him. So there was no way of knowing what Ford was thinking, which meant there was no way of knowing if Ford _didn’t_ hate him (even though Lee was almost positive that he did).

His nightmares hadn’t helped much either. He’d seen images flashing in his mind, vivid dreams of Ford turning his back on him and walking out of his life forever. Of Ford yelling at Lee, telling him he was disgusting, loud enough for their father to hear. And then Filbrick seeing this as his excuse to get rid of Lee, who he thought was useless, kicking him out of their home.

Lee had seen himself looking up at the window Ford stood in, just before Ford closed the curtains on Lee forever. _That_ had been extremely painful. The idea of Ford turning his back on him so easily, of allowing their father to put Lee on the streets to fend for himself―it caused his stomach to turn in the most unpleasant way.

“Ford would never let that happen…” Lee sighed to himself.

Lee looked at the painting he’d finished. It was a dark, snowy, night in front of a lit cabin. A person stood in front of a door, wearing a red hood and carrying a bag. Lee couldn’t see the person’s face, only their back. He wondered who they were and why they stood so sullenly in front of that door, not knocking just yet―or maybe they’d already knocked and there was no answer? Lee didn’t know. He thought he might never find out either.

“…would he?”

[][][][][]

While the seed of doubt began sowing itself in Stanley’s mind, Stanford tried to make heads or tails of his feelings. School was helping him stay distracted (typically he spent Monday mornings in Math, working on some of the equations their teacher planned to give them), but there was only so much work to be done before he started noticing that his mind wandered to his brother when he was stumped. It wasn’t something unusual either; Ford’s thoughts often turned to Lee when he was stuck on something. But now it was just all―it was jumbled up.

He thought about Lee, when he woke up in the morning and couldn’t find his glasses, and so was groping around blindly and would smile (this _huge_ smile Ford never realized made his heart pound) when Ford handed the spectacles to him. He thought about Lee, when his brother complained about Ford taking too long in the bathroom and banging on the door, threatening to tell Ma and then getting pouty and cute ( _cute_ ―why was Ford only now associating that word with Lee?) when Ford called his bluff. He thought about Lee, when they were walking to school and went by the Art Supply store, where Lee would stop and point to the art kit he _really_ wanted, but never had enough money for, eyes wide with awe (that same look that made Ford want to move _mountains_ for Lee).

His thoughts were just flooded with his brother, considering all the ways that Lee was great, thinking about all of Lee’s flaws and considering him better for them, thinking about the way Lee tried _so hard_ but couldn’t always manage to keep things together.

The frustration was what made him snap at his classmates when they asked for his help.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to finish something?” he’d growled, startling the poor girls. He’d immediately apologized afterwards, explaining that a family situation at home was bothering him. They accepted his apology with ease, but Ford could hear them whispering as they walked away.

“I bet it was his brother.”

“Ugh, Stanley’s so not cool.”

“He’s such a loser―I feel bad for Stanford.”

“He’s only good for Art class, and what good is art if you wanna be a lawyer or something really important?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised Stanford still hangs around him.”

“Not this morning.”

Their talk brought Ford’s mind back to the fact that he and Lee _hadn’t_ walked to school together that morning. Ford _hadn’t_ been able to see that smile; he _hadn’t_ been able to see Lee pouting, and he _hadn’t_ seen Lee’s look of awe.

That upset Ford as much as it had hearing the girls talk.

viii.

“Ford?”

The sound of Lee’s voice made Ford look up from his homework. He wasn’t at all surprised to see that Lee was in only his towel; he’d just finished his shower. They typically took turns, alternating each night. It had been Lee’s turn to get in first, so Ford had decided to work more on his homework. Their teachers were starting to really up the ante. If Ford didn’t understand the material so well, he was sure that Lee would fall behind, because without him Lee would be lost.

“Ford,” Lee sounded like he was growing annoyed―Ford _was_ just… staring after all. He shot Lee something of a smile, standing from his desk chair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t find my underwear,” Lee sighed. He was rifling around through their drawers, searching for his boxers. Ford smirked to himself, silently, already knowing that Lee’s underwear were gone. He’d hidden them when Lee had gone for his shower.

“I wonder why,” he murmured, pretending to have no idea.

“ _Ford_ ,” Lee sighed, the slight irritation in his voice clear in that one syllable. Ford walked over and wrapped his arms around Lee, pulling him in close.

“Ford! Jeez, I just had a shower, Sixer, you’re gonna make me stink again!” the younger twin complained. Ford made a noise of acknowledgment, not particularly caring that he’d end up causing Lee to have to shower once more.

“Maybe we can shower together this time, hmm?” Ford offered, just before he swooped in and claimed Lee’s lips in a gentle kiss. Lee grunted in his throat, not putting up the usual struggle he gave Ford whenever they kissed. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Ford’s shoulders and tilted his head enough for Ford’s tongue to slither into his mouth.

They stood together like that for a while, simply kissing each other. Ford’s hands roamed up and down Lee’s back, while Lee’s fingers played in Ford’s hair. It was pretty innocent for few minutes, before Ford’s hands slithered down to grope Lee’s ass. He squeezed the cheeks in his large palms, listening to Lee’s surprised moan, which morphed into one of pleasure as he pulled away from Ford to get in a few breaths.

Ford chose to occupy his mouth by pressing into the nape of Lee’s neck, biting the flesh there and licking the marks. He sucked bruises into the skin as well, leaving dark hickies that he _knew_ Lee wouldn’t be able to hide from their classmates. Ford didn’t even care. He _wanted_ all of them to know who Lee belonged to; he _wanted_ them to know that his brother was _his_ and his alone. No one else could have Lee ever.

The towel fell away with ease; Ford had unhindered access to Lee’s backside. He pushed his hands down so that his fingers gripped the very cleft of each full cheek. A finger from each hand gently reached to brush over Lee’s entrance. The soft, pink, hole was slightly damp and easily gave way for Ford’s fingers to slip in. He chuckled darkly in Lee’s ear.

“You were fingering yourself?” he asked.

“F-Ford…” Lee stuttered, before he nodded his head. “Yeah…”

“Bet you were preparing for me, huh, Lee?” Ford breathed. His fingers easily slid into Lee’s hole, pressing into his brother and scissoring as well.

“Ford… fuck me, please!” Lee panted.

Ford didn’t need to be told twice.

[][][][][]

“Lee…”

Their dad had said that Ford couldn’t sleep in the living room anymore, so he was back in their bedroom, on the top bunk, rolling around and having a wet dream. Lee knew it had to be one because of the way Ford was moaning; he sounded like he was enjoying himself whatever he was doing. And for a while, Lee thought it was some random person from school.

So he was extremely shocked when Ford moaned his name in his sleep. Hearing the soft, gasped out, _“Lee,”_ roll off of Ford’s tongue sent shivers down Lee’s body. He didn’t know why Ford was dreaming about him, nor did he think it was _right_ after what had happened between them. What reason could Ford possibly have for dreaming about Lee after finding out about Lee’s… _affection_ for him?

“Fuck, Lee…” Ford groaned again and honestly, Lee couldn’t help it when he pushed his hand into his underwear to take hold of himself, stroking over the head of his erection in time with Ford’s call of his name.

He was getting close around the same time Ford was, judging by the way Lee’s name rolled off of Ford’s tongue faster and faster. Lee was practically thrusting up into his own hands, Ford’s voice working wonders on his body. He tried to hold it back, to stave off his orgasm for just a little while longer, but when Ford gasped out his name, his _full_ name in one long groan, Lee lost himself.

“Ford…” he whispered, as his cum filled his boxers, spilling over his hands. He exhaled softly, closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him.

Ford woke up from his dream the moment he reached his climax. His breathing was laboured and his pants were sticky. But his eyes were wide, staring up at the ceiling as he realized that there was one part of his dream that hadn’t been a dream at all.

He’d heard it―his name on Lee’s lips. It was so soft that Ford almost hadn’t caught it, but he did, by some grace of God. Slowly, quietly, he leaned over the side of his bed to look down at Lee. He was thankful that he’d fallen asleep with his glasses on (again) otherwise he’d never have been able to see Lee, his hands still shoved into his boxers, a wet spot noticeable in them even in the dark. Ford didn’t know what to think when he saw the sight before him.

The clock read three in the morning. Honestly, Ford needed to get back to sleep, as they had school in less than five hours. He would have to―he’d have to worry about this in the morning. It was Wednesday, meaning Lee would be attending another study session with him. He could corner Lee and they could finally talk afterwards.

With that in mind, Ford settled back into bed.

Right after he changed his underwear.

ix.

The middle of school was not the time nor the place to cause a scene, but apparently Ford had never gotten that memo. Lee was sure of it because the moment he looked up and saw Ford staring at him, he knew there was going to be _something_ happening that day. Ford managed to hold off for two whole periods, but he had a bad habit (Lee only saw it as bad now, when he didn’t want to speak to Ford) of waiting for Lee after class.

Things seemed to blow up the moment Lee left Art class smiling (actually _smiling_ ) because of the few friends he had in there. They managed to cheer him up about things easily, which made him immensely glad to have them. They were the only people that willingly spoke to him outside of class, which really made him feel better sometimes.

Seeing Lee smiling was what seemed to set Ford off, because the moment Ford saw that look on his brother’s face, he grabbed Lee’s arm and stormed off with him. He was so _angry_ now, because _he_ wasn’t the one putting that look on Lee’s face and _no one_ should make Lee smile like that but Ford. It just wasn’t fair that someone else could do what Ford couldn’t right now.

“Ford! Let me go!” Lee shouted, trying to pry Ford’s fingers from his arm. But Ford wouldn’t let go.

“Ford, seriously, everyone’s starting to stare!”

“No, Lee,” Ford simply grunted, his grip on Lee’s arm bruising. He found a janitor’s closet and threw Lee in before heading inside himself. He closed and locked the door, and the two of them were trapped in the small space together.

Lee wouldn’t meet Ford’s eyes.

“What are you doing, Stanford?” he questioned.

“What’s been _up_ with you Lee?” Ford asked instead of answering. “You’re avoiding me now more than ever. Is this because of last Friday?”

 _No_ , Lee thought, _This is because you were **moaning my name** in your sleep._

“I don’t even care about last Friday anymore,” he lied easily. It was better to pretend he didn’t care about it anyway, even though he still was pretty bugged about it. But now he was even more conflicted because of the night before. He didn’t know what to think. Was he supposed to _tell_ Ford that he’d heard him while he was sleeping? Was he supposed to say anything at all about it?

“You’re lying, Lee.” Of course Ford was going to call him out on it. It was too much to assume that Ford would, for once, let Lee be.

“Why do you even _care_?” Lee demanded to know.

“Because I care about you!”

Lee flinched a bit at the words. He was still so confused, but he felt like there was no way Ford could possibly care about Lee in the way Lee cared for Ford. Even when the contradictory evidence from late last night, he still just couldn’t believe it. Maybe he _hadn’t_ heard Ford saying his name, and he was just projecting his feelings onto Ford.

Ford, unknowing of what could possibly be going through Lee’s mind, growled a bit in his throat. He didn’t know why he got the sudden urge, but he pressed himself flush against Lee, pinning the younger twin to the wall and aligning their bodies perfectly as if they were made to fit together with each other like two puzzle pieces. Lee was taken by surprise by the action, staring into Ford’s eyes with shock in his own. Ford’s own were unreadable to Lee, who could usually tell what Ford was thinking.

“Don’t you ever think,” he started, his anger bubbling beneath the surface of his skin, “that I don’t care.”

And just like that Ford pulled away. The bell for class had already rung, which meant the two of them were late. He opened the door to the closet and held it open.

“We’re late for class.” The words were thick with something Lee didn’t recognize. He gathered his things and rushed out of the closet ahead of Ford, moving at a much faster pace. Ford picked up his own books and stared at the cover of his History textbook. There were little doodles all over it from when Lee had mistakenly taken it thinking it was his own. Little drawings of Ford everywhere, working on all sorts of tiny projects.

Ford let out a sigh and headed towards class.

[][][][][]

Lee skipped the study session after school, thinking it was for the better if he did so. He didn’t want to distract Ford, nor did he really feel like dealing with being the academic outcast again. So he opted for the walk home. Returning and sneaking past his dad was relatively easy, since Filbrick Pines was in the middle of a shouting match with a customer over some piece of jewelry or other that Filbrick insisted was worth way less than what the customer wanted for it.

Sneaking past Ma? That wasn’t so easy.

“Stanley! What’re you doing home early?” Maria asked when she spotted her youngest son.

“Ma!” Lee shouted, surprised. “I was, uh, not feeling too good at school so I came home right after.”

That wasn’t so much a lie as it was an understatement. After his “talk” with Ford he had started feeling pretty bad, so coming home had definitely been the better decision.

Maria seemed skeptical of this.

“Do you have a fever? Should I call the doctor?” she questioned, pressing a hand to Lee’s forehead.

“No, Ma, I’m just gonna go lie down. Call me when dinner’s ready?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Letting the matter go a lot easier than usual, Maria allowed Lee to leave. He figured she’d picked up on his recent turmoil, or at least what was going on between him and Ford, which was why she was letting him off so easy.

Lee headed to his bedroom and climbed into his bed. He was thinking about Ford again, his mind wandering to the way Ford had pressed against him, their bodies slotted together so perfectly and making Lee feel _protected_ and _right_.

“Why’d he have to be my brother?” he sighed, closing his eyes to doze off.

x.

Lee was sleeping.

That was the first thing Ford noticed when he arrived home and stepped foot into his and Lee’s bedroom. He was still a little ticked off about Lee skipping tutoring. He’d actually… looked forward to studying with Lee, if only to be able to have a decent conversation with his brother without things getting too awkward. But of course, he shouldn’t have expected Lee to show up after their impromptu talk in the janitor’s closet.

So now he was slightly irritated, mainly with himself and the fact that he and Lee haven’t been able to sit down and talk normally for what feels like _weeks_ but is only a few days. Everything just felt like Ford was bottling it up, because the person he _usually_ talked to about his problems wouldn’t speak to him. How was he supposed to talk about his problems when the only person he _could_ confide in was the _reason_ for those problems?

That’s what Ford was thinking about when he opened the door to the bedroom and stepped inside. He had placed his backpack down before the light sound of snoring reached his ears, alerting him to the fact that Lee was sleeping. His brother was lying on the bed, expression relaxed for once, unassuming and… cute. Ford had been calling Lee cute a lot lately.

Ford glanced towards the door, but he had closed it when he’d come in. His mother was in the living room, likely watching one of those soap operas she liked while his father was still downstairs and likely would be until dinner. Which left Ford completely alone with a sleeping Lee.

“Ford…”

The tiny call of his voice made the genius nearly jump out of his skin. He looked over at where the noise had come from, seeing Lee shift in his sleep until he was lying on his back. Ford wondered what Lee could possibly be thinking about to have called his name like that. He’d probably never find out though; Lee hadn’t told Ford what he dreamed about in years. Ford had asked before, but he always got the sense that Lee was lying.

Thinking of dreams made Ford remember his own from the previous night, and thinking about _that_ led his mind to wander to something else. He had kissed Lee in his dream, and he’d been considering it for the last few days. This could be his only chance to find out if Lee’s lips were really as soft as they looked.

Keeping that in mind, Ford quietly and as stealthily as possible climbed onto Lee’s bed. He positioned himself above Lee, body held up by his forearms, which framed Lee’s face. This close, he could feel the tiny puffs of breath coming from Lee’s parted lips. He could see every little detail of Lee’s face; all the tiny blemishes that made Lee unique. The band aids on Lee’s face covered up places he’d either scraped himself or popped pimples that had been a little too large for his tastes.

Ford’s eyes drifted back to Lee’s lips after examining his brother, his eyelids lowering as he leaned in. Slowly, so as not to wake Lee, Ford touched his lips to Lee’s own.

He didn’t really understand why he felt shivers run up and down his spine. He didn’t get what made his heart suddenly speed up, nor did he know why this felt a lot more like _right_ than it honestly should have. Lee’s lips were incredibly soft, though slightly chapped. Ford found himself not wanting to pull away.

The kiss felt like it lasted forever and a day before Lee shifted beneath Ford, startling the older twin. Ford jumped back immediately, though the action made him bump his head on the top bunk, which caused him to curse. His sudden outburst caused Lee to wake up, and before Ford knew it brown eyes were staring up at him through sleep and mild alarm.

“Ford? …What are you doing?” he inquired.

“Um,” there really was no good explanation. Ford had just kissed Lee; there was nothing more to it than that.

“Why are you on top of me?” Lee asked now, looking at where their bodies were connecting. He could already feel his mind going places it shouldn’t, and he didn’t want it to end the way it had before.

“Lee―” Ford was about to make something up when he realized that this was the best time to confront his brother. “How do you feel about me? Honestly?”

Lee tensed up at the question, quickly averting his eyes. He seemed to be unable to meet Ford’s gaze these days. Ford didn’t like it. When he couldn’t look into Lee’s eyes, he felt like Lee was being dishonest with him. Ford didn’t care if Lee lied to anyone else, but when he lied to Ford? That wasn’t something Ford condoned or agreed with.

“Ford, can we not do this right now―”

“I think I love you, Lee.”

Lee stopped, his eyes wide. He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what Ford meant. He wanted to say, “Well of course you do. You’re my brother,” because that was something he should have said, and he shouldn’t assume that Ford meant something else because it was wishful thinking and it was _wrong_. Whatever they _could_ have between them they _shouldn’t_ , because they were brothers and to want to kiss your brother was bad.

“Ford, that was―it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to-to get hard while you were on top of me,” Lee started, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

…

What?

“You’re lying,” Ford called immediately, knowing damn well Lee was.

“Ford―”

“Don’t lie to me, Lee.” Ford clenched his hands into a fist. “Don’t confuse me any more than I already am.”

For once, Ford was confused about something. He’d never had to deal with such confusion before; he was used to being able to figure things out easily. But the emotions swirling around in his mind―those weren’t easy to decipher. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was saying. But something was better than nothing, and whatever he said would surely be able to get Lee to talk.

Lee, however, continued saying nothing. He simply stared up at Ford, wanting to help but feeling as though he couldn’t. Ford felt like things were getting worse as the silence continued between them. Lee was right. This was a mistake.

Ford moved to finally climb off of Lee. Maybe he’d go shower before dinner to clear his head, and when he came back he’d act like none of this happened. Bottling it all up was much easier than confronting it all.

He was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. Ford looked down at Lee, who still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“…will you kiss me?” Lee asked softly, almost too low for Ford to hear. Ford wondered if this was Lee acknowledging his feelings or if it was Lee trying to prove something.

But Ford wanted to do it again. Remembering the first made him want for more, so he agreed, and he leaned down, and he kissed Lee.

They needed this to figure out what would happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all notice my references to canon? If you've got questions, shoot 'em down below, otherwise head voer to my tumblr to ask! My tumblr is, currently, sinderellassins (yes I know what it _used_ to be but a friend of mine just haaaaad to fuck that up).

**Author's Note:**

> Ngl prolly won't update for two weeks. My process involves making separate docs for each part because if I write it all together I somehow fuck it up??? yeah.


End file.
